


Just Close Your Eyes and Think of Prophecy

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [105]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, a spell made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's not the brightest tentacle monster in the bunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Close Your Eyes and Think of Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the same universe as "Raising In the Sun," "Necessary Evils," and "A Parliament of Monsters." It contains spoilers for previous stories in the series. This was written for the Schmoop Bingo prompt "Making Out."

The demon's armored bulk filled the whole of the sewer tunnel, its carapace scraping the slime-encrusted brick of the ceiling. All around it, clusters of gently pulsing egg sacs clung to the tunnel walls, glowing a sickly, phosphorescent green. "Foolish Slayer!" it bellowed, tentacles writhing. "By the stroke of midnight my spawn shall rise - rise to rule the surface world! I am Zexiquaz The Unlimitable, and you have fallen into my trap!"

"Yeah? Not for long." Spike narrowed his eyes and lashed out at the mystical sphere of energy enclosing them. His fist smashed into the curved surface with a resounding _WHONG!_ and the vampire bounced back onto his ass with a yelp, shaking his bruised hand. "Fuck!"

Zexiquaz flung back what Buffy supposed was its head and chortled, a noise like a plugged-up vacuum cleaner. "Neither weapons, nor blows, nor the assaults of magic will avail you! There is but one escape from the Sphere of Loquor!"

Buffy rapped on the softly glowing surface of the Sphere. It made a hollow ringing noise. She was stronger than Spike was - but not that much stronger, and she was really hoping to make the current manicure last longer than a week. Blows, it appeared, were out, and even if she hadn't lost her sword when the Sphere closed around them, she was pretty sure that it wouldn't make much more impact than Spike's fist had. The assaults of magic really weren't their department. Which left the obvious. "And that one escape would be?"

The demonic chortle became full-bore villainous laughter. Buffy winced as pale orange spittle freckled the exterior of the magical barrier - unfortunately, demon halitosis didn't seem to be included in the list of things that the Sphere of Loquor blocked. "An action so vile, so degrading, so loathsome that no Slayer would even contemplate it, much less lower herself to perform it." Zexiquaz's pulsing, remora-fanged maw twisted in a cruel parody of a smile. "The barrier can be dissolved by naught but this: the Slayer must engage in..." It paused dramatically - Buffy could practically hear the _dun dun DUN!_ in the background. "Carnal relations with her mortal enemy - a VAMPIRE!"

Spike left off nursing his smashed knuckles, folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall of the Sphere. "You mean like the one who's trapped in the Sphere with her?"

"The one I've been married to for the last twenty-five years?" Buffy added helpfully.

"Wait, what?" Zexiquaz bent low, proboscis snuffling at Spike's shoulder through the sphere. "You don't smell undead," it rumbled suspiciously.

"Yeah, well, I'm not. Long story." Spike vamped out and bared his fangs. "Smell more like a vamp than anything else, don't I?" He made a sorrowful _tch_ ing noise. "Someone's not the brightest tentacle monster in the bunch."

"Yeeeeesss," Zexiquaz admitted, after another grudging sniff. It scratched its carapace with two or three tentacles. "So in essence, you can escape at any time. Most irritating."

"Well, it's not like we're going to do it with you watching." Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

"Hold on, pet," Spike said. He stabbed a finger at Zexiquaz. "Look, mate, 'carnal relations' is pretty sodding vague. What exactly qualifies? We expected to strip down and make the beast with two backs, or will slipping my lady a bit of tongue do the trick?"

Zexiquaz heaved itself up with gelatinous dignity. "I'm sure I don't know," it burbled. "Unlike some, I do not take a perverse interest in the reproductive habits of lower beings."

Buffy pursed her lips thoughtfully. "We could start with a peck on the cheek and work our way up."

"True," Zexiquaz heaved an expansive and overly-fragrant sigh, tentacles drooping in imitation of an under-watered spider plant. "It is a dilemma," it rumbled disconsolately. "In theory, at least, you have foiled me. Surely by midnight you will have overcome your pathetic mortal squeamishness. I had thought to let you live to witness my triumph, but I suppose I shall have to crush you both now."

"Now wait just one - !" Spike yelled, as Zexiquaz raised one massive, barbed tentacle high, and brought it down on the Sphere. Buffy grabbed Spike and the two of them braced against the curving walls as the Sphere bounced across the tunnel like a hamster ball, ricocheted off the ceiling and finally wedged itself into a tangle of rusty pipes.

"You all right, pet?" Spike gasped.

Buffy clung woozily to the side of the Sphere. "I think I'm going to be sick." Spike scuttled hurriedly out of barfing range. "On the bright side, though, totally not crushed."

"How d'you like that, Squidward?" crowed Spike. "Can't get through your own Sphere!" Heedless of potential barfage, he scooted back across the curving (floor? Bottom? Really no good words for Sphere-part-pointing-down), took Buffy by the shoulders, and planted an impassioned kiss on her lips. "Let's get carnal, love, and show this walking bouillabaisse what for."

Normally the hungry-and-horny part came post-slay, but what the heck, it couldn't hurt to try. Queasiness forgotten, Buffy flung both arms around his neck and returned the kiss with change. It was a measure of Spike's talent that for a second she forgot _why_ they were kissing. Spike lips, lips of Spike... oh, yeah, monster. Zexiquaz had brightened to a fetching shade of chartreuse at the display. She kicked backwards, experimentally. _BONG._ One Sphere, still distressingly spherical.

"Ahah! I see the flaw in your escape plan!" Zexiquaz rubbed its tentacles together gloatingly. "If the two of you are indeed bound in a ceremony of mutual spawn-rearing and property disposal, then the vampire is not your mortal enemy! You are, indeed, inescapably confined, and I can simply leave you to perish!"

"Oi! Sushi-breath!" Spike yelled, and the demon started turning round upon its considerable length to leave. He puffed out his chest indignantly. "I was her mortal enemy for a good three, four years! That's got to count for something!"

"Three or four years?" Buffy asked, incredulous. "Please. More like three or four months."

"One year in Sunnydale," Spike countered, ticking them off on his fingers. "One year in South America. One year _back_ in Sunnydale, and a good six months more before I sussed out I was in love with you. Four years, or close enough."

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Well, you can't really count anything after you asked me to help you beat Angelus, can you?"

Spike leaned forward, and the Sphere rocked alarmingly in its cradle of piping. " _I_ asked _you_ for help?" he growled. "Memory's going, love. I offered _you_ help. And I'll have you know I can fall for a bird and plan to kill her at the same time."

"You can, huh?" Buffy pressed her nose to his.

"Bloody right." Spike thrust an arm out, pinning her against the wall of the Sphere. Spike had nice arms. Muscular without being all bulgy. "I'm a complicated bloke. And you can't say capturing your pals to get Dru back wasn't prime mortal enemy plotting!"

Her eyes fixed on his plush lower lip. "Remind me how sobbing on my Mom's shoulder worked into the grand plan again?"

The growl settled deep into his chest. Which was really a very nice chest. Firm. Well-proportioned. "Gem of Amarra."

"Oh, right. The thing that made you invulnerable, except for the part where I kicked your ass?"

"Time I almost got the chip out," he snarled. Amber sparks fizzed in the blue of his eyes. "Had you on the ropes good and proper, Slayer."

"Oh, please," Buffy said, just as breathless. She could feel every ridge and curve of muscle through his t-shirt, and her very favorite tentacle monster was pressing hard against her belly. "Any plan involving Harmony automatically loses. You didn't have me on the ropes, you practically kissed me then and - Mmmf!"

Apparently determined to make up for the lost opportunity, Spike's mouth descended upon hers with the speed and force of a class five hurricane, and took her breath away just as thoroughly. Her needy little moans and his hungry growls were both swallowed up in their mutual frenzy to get their tongues as far down one another's throats as possible. Oh, God. Lips of Spike, and tongue of Spike, and hands and arms and shoulders and chest of Spike, and somehow or other her legs had wrapped themselves around his waist and her hips were writhing against the straining bulge in his jeans in a desperate attempt to assuage the ache between her thighs.

His fingers fumbled their way under her skirt and past the inconsequential barrier of her panties just as she popped the top button of his jeans. Spike exploded the second she touched his dick, which was convenient, because she was too busy convulsing around his fingers and yelling "Ah, ah, ah, AAAAAHHHHH!!!" to really give it the loving attention it deserved. The Sphere of Loquor softened to jelly beneath her shoulders, and with a slurp and a POP! and they were both falling through onto the damp, mossy floor. Spike rolled off her and Buffy sprang to her feet, snatching her sword from the puddle where it had fallen when the Sphere trapped them. Spike yanked wrenched a length of rusty pipe free of the sewer wall and turned on Zexiquaz with a roar.

"So much for not taking a perverse interest in the reproductive habits of lower beings," Buffy snapped, and hurled the sword straight at Zexiquaz's central eye. " _That's_ for sticking around to watch."

 

****

"Took you long enough to catch on," Buffy said, as they clambered over the demon's slowly dissolving corpse. The nearest manhole wasn't that far off. Another favorite pair of ankle boots bites the dust. But on the bright side, demon goo was a handy all-purpose excuse for any potentially embarrassing wet spots once they got out of the sewers.

Spike smirked - he claimed he liked to bring up the rear in case she slipped, but she suspected that he just liked watching her ass. "I was in the moment." He skewered the last of the egg sacs with his pipe, and glowing green proto-omelette dribbled down the tunnel wall. "But you were laying it on a bit thick, love. I've learned a trick or two over the years. Still think you can take me, Slayer?"

Buffy spun around and backed him up against the damp bricks. After all, the hungry and horny part did traditionally come post-slay. "Wanna find out?"

Warm, slow, melty, taffy-pull kisses this time. Totally different strategy, very tricky. "Had enough?" she panted, when they finally came up for air.

"I give," Spike purred, slumped languidly against the wall. "Best two out of three?"

"Mmmmmm. I'm not convinced that you're totally subdued yet." From the feel of things down there, he was going to need quite a lot of subduing. "And a Slayer never lets her mortal enemy go to bed unsubdued." Sometimes, being the Chosen One absolutely rocked. Buffy gave him a demure smile. "Bring it on."

 **END**


End file.
